PS 2459 
.N288 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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391 



LITTLE REMINDERS 



BY 



FRANK E. NESMITH. 



AUG, 21 1894 



To be, (jr not to be, that is the question."— Shakespeare. 



^2.^^2.-X 



philadelphia, pa.: 
Catholic Publication Concern, 

1224 North Nineteenth Street. 
1894. 






Copyright 

1894 

By Frank E. Nesmith. 



PREFACE. 



I wish in the beginning to express my gratitude 
for the kindness of The Catholic Times Pubhshing 
Comjiany, in accepting and inserting in theirs, the 
leading paper of our Churcli, my eftorts at verse 
writing, as the encouragement I thus received, at least, 
helped me greatly to persevere in this consoling work. 

In the publication of the following verses, I have 
but two objects in view, that they may be the means 
of saving one poor soul from Eternal damnation ; and 
my own consolation. 

Frank E. Nesmith. 

Philadelphia, July 19th, 1894. 



I i 



IN 

LOVE AND GRATITUDE 

I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK 

TO MY DEVOTED WIFE, 

MARY. 



t. J 



CONTENTS. 



THE TRUE AND THE FALSE, 7 

TO LIGHT OR DARKNESS? 10 

OUR STAR OF HOPE, 13 

AFTER THOUGHTS, 15 

FLEETING GLIMPSES, 17 

ONLY ONE, 19 

THE EXCHANGE, 22 

NOW OR THEN ? 24 

WHAT SHALL WE PLAY? 27 

SELF-LOVE, 30 

SO NEAR AND SO F'AR, 32 

OUR UNTOLD TREASURE, 35 

THE ELEVENTH HOUR, 38 

SOME DAY, 42 

AT OUR MERCY, 44 

RAIN, SUNSHINE AND ? 46 

THE DREAM OF LIFE, 48 

HERE OR THERE? 50 

THE SUNSET OF LIFE? 52 

THE FINAL CHOICE, 54 

THE LAST CALLER, 56 



Tlie True and the False, 



T 



HE moonlight night is almost gone, 



The break of day is now so near 
That birds of darkness are at rest, 

And silence reiens on all things here. 



Now, at a sick man's bedside stands 
A wife he believes good and true. 

But of his riches she is thinking ; 
If he dies, what she will do. 



In years gone by for her he left 

One who was worthy of his love, 

Whose spirit now, though dead to him, 
Is looking down from up above. 



This spirit, rich in love divine, 

Prays that he'll come back to her heart 
By dying in a state of grace, 

And thence from her no more to part. 



Like this man are some of us here, 

Who in baptismal robes were wed ; 

To make this heartless world our bride 

From our true love we, too, have fled. 



When we are orone this after choice 

Cares naught for us but what we leave, 

And soon forgets we e'er were here; 
But we like fools ourselves deceive 



By shutting from our heart and mind 

The thought of who will be our bride, 

When we have left this world so dear. 
Perchance till too late to decide. 



10 



To Light or Darkness 



? 



'np HOUGH at our sides they are not seen, 

^ Until death with us they roam, 
Two Angels, bitter enemies, 

Which at last will lead us home ? 



Shall it be the one who hisses: 

"Let your passions have full sway. 

For even if there is a hell, 

You'll not throw your life away. 



11 



"As after years of pleasure here, 

You'll have time before the last, 

To make your peace with God and be 
Truly sorry for your past." 



Or shall it be one who whispers: 

"Do you know that God is here ? 

That your acts He will remember 
When before Him you appear. 



"At this moment should He call you, 
Where would you forev^er live ? 

For Eternal joy in heaven, 

What have you left now to give ? 



12 



"Come to Him, come, and forever, 
(As if this day were your last.) 

By keeping in His holy grace, 

And He will forgive your past. 



"Not only now, but on that day 
When 'tis best tor you to die, 

Then to your loved ones you can say 
Au revoir and not good bye." 



13 



T 



07ir Star of Hope, 



HOUGH thoughts of pleasures here may 
dim 



The brii^htness of its lioht, 
'Twill yet remind us that it's there, 
If not until the night 



Or day we feel to be our last. 

Oh, then how hard 'twill be 
To pierce those clouds of sin we've made, 

Our star of hope to see. 



14 



But if Death gives not time to look 

Into our heart to find 
This greatest comfort here on earth, 

This peace to soul and mind. 



How dark those clouds of sin will seem 
In that last breath we take ; 

So keep this star forever bright, 
For thy dear Jesus' sake. 



15 



After Tlwtights. 

IT 7hat pleasure 'tis we often feel, 

* ' In thinking- of the past, 
'Til sadness steals into our hearts. 
Because they did not last. 



Those happy times of long ago, 
Now gone, ne'er to return ; 

Our eyes we feel are filling up, 
Our heart begins to burn. 



16 



For mem'ries of those loved ones gone, 
As after thoughts crowd in, 

Thus ofttimes making us more sad 
Than for a erievous sin. 



Though by that act we crucify 
The One who for us died, 

Alas! forgetting many times, 
Is ever at our side. 



If after thoughts of joy we'd have, 
It rests but with our will ; 

He's waiting for us all the time, 
Our heart and soul to fill. 



17 



Fleeting Glimpses. 

0() happy are our thoughts of Christ 
^ When in His holy grace, 
Close to our heart they form a frame 
For His most lovely face, 



Which ofttimes to our captive soul 
Such consolation brings, 

As when we hear the organ's peal 
And some voice sadly sings. 



18 



Floating in tears of love divine, 

The sight is dimmed by joy, 
When, presto change! the world comes back 

Our vision to destroy. 



These moments are too sweet to last, 
On earth they come and go, 

Although they leave this happy thought, 
Up there 'twill not be so. 



19 



Only One. 



T N this world of fleeting pleasures, 
-^ In this life of joy and woe, 
When we lose those we love dearh' 
How we wish it were not so. 



How we'd love to see those faces 
In our life once more again, 

Even if but for a moment. 

They with us were to remain. 



20 



When thinking of those times now past, 
In our minds they seem to rise, 

How we'd love to have them kiss those 
Teardrops nestling in our eyes. 



This is how we feel and loner for 

Those we love, now laid at rest, 

But if they will e'er reach heaven. 

Do you think they loved us best ? 



Would they give their life's blood for us ? 

Would they love when we forget ? 
Would they bear our scorn in silence 

And to Him thus pay our debt ? 



21 



Would they watch for times to whisper 
In our hearts, "Come back to Me?" 

Would they wait till that last moment 
When on earth we cease to be ? 



And 'tis true we'd ne'er expect them 
For our scorn such love to give, 

But One there is who so loves us, 
That is wh}' He lets us live. 



22 



The Exchange. 



''T^WAS Christmas night when a father looked 

-■- On the face of his dear dead child. 
While thinking how pure his soul must be, 
He thought of his own so defiled. 



For through his mind the scenes passed on 
Of the worthless life he'd led. 

He kissed his loved one, thanking God 
For sparing his boy— though dead. 



23 



Then to his sad heart came the thought 
or the One who had come that day 

\o save his sinful soul from hell, 

And he fell on his knees to say: 



"At last. Oh! God, Thou hast called me back. 

To Thee I offer my boy ; 
All that I am and all that I have, 

Thou art now m)- only joy. 



"Oh! that I never again may stray 

From the path that leads to Thee. 

Give me Thy Jesus forever more. 
That I Thy heaven may see." 



24 



Nozv or Then? 



\T Then signs of wear begin to show 

' ' And spots of dirt we see, 
Our coat we feel ashamed of then ; 
We say, "This must not be." 



If money we have or credit good, 

It is not long before 
We're looking over the newest goods 

Our tailor has in store. 



25 



And then we pick out something fine, 
Just from the other side; 

When it's made up in the latest style, 
We go to have it tried. 



It fits, of course, he makes us think ; 

We feel quite satisfied 
With ourselves, friends and enemies- 

Our pride is gratified. 



But coats even by tailors made 
Are sure not long to last, 

A short time and they turn to rags. 
Our wearing of them's past. 



26 

i 



Although there Is another coat 

We must forever wear, 
Which can be cleaned and made like new, 

Sewed up if there's a tear. 



In this 'tis like the tailor's coat, 
It's better done right here, 

When we have time to find those spots 
Of sin which may appear. 



When we are called to judgment meet, 

What day we cannot tell, 
'Twere best done now, to make quite sure, 

'Twill not be sent to hell. 



27 



IV hat Shall We Play ? 

n^HE cards, worn out or thrown away, 
-^ To mother earth return, 
But new ones come to take their place, 
And wait in life their turn. 



So thus the pack is kept quite full, 
Many there are to play ; 

The games go on with fearful speed, 
Some cards don't last a day. 



28 

i 



The players do not seem to take 

Much care of their cards here, 

'Though well they know when there're worn 
out, 
They, too, must disappear. 

The game it seems is liked the most, 

Is played on tables wet 
With drinks which soon the cards destroy ; 

It has not failed as yet. 



And there are some other orames 

Which make the cards look old, 

When they've been used so short a time, 
But they need not be told. 



There's one game man)' seldom play, 

Confession is its name, 
White in His sight it makes our cards. 

And us, too, just the same. 



Our bodies are as cards on earth. 

The player is our will. 
What game we play it rests with us. 

But we must foot the bill. 



30 



Self- Love. 



/^N this first deck of life's swift boat 
^ We stand and look around, 
We see the rocks, the narrow ways, 
Places to run aground. 



And think them fools who chances take 

No wonder they are lost 
By not steering clear of danger, 

No matter what the cost. 



31 



But of ourselves we feel quite sure, 

For little do we fear, 
We ever do consent to take 

Such risks as others here. 



Presumption like a mist will hide, 
Sometimes 'til judgment day. 

That compass in our heart from view 
To guide us on our way. 



For suddenly the storm comes on, 
The needle in our heart, 

Then heeded when it is too late, 
May never cease to smart. 



32 



On this our only trial trip 
We are put to the test, 

Whether 'tis He who gave us all 
Or ourselves we love best. 



So Near and So Far, 



MY sunny days in this world gone, 
My restful nights all past, 
My pleasure here forever dead, 
And where was I at last ? 



33 



Trembling with fear, I listened to 
A sobbing- voice I heard. 

"Oh! Lord, I always loved Thee and 
Tried hard to keep Thy word. 



"Sometimes, at least, I've prayed to Thee, 

To Mass I often went, 
And" — then came screams of dire despair. 

Where was that poor soul sent ? 



And then another spoke: "Oh! God, 
I was so young and strong. 

That many years 1 thought I'd live. 
Or would not have done wronp.' 



34 



And countless others did I hear, 
Who cursed in wild despair, 

Their voices dying far away, 

Like night winds in the air. 



Then came in low and humble tones, 
"Lord, have mercy on me, 

A sinner, for Lve often strayed 
Far, far away from Thee." 



Oh ! then what joyous voices rang 

Out in the stillness there; 
They filled my heart with boundless love 

For Him who heard that prayer. 



35 

1 



When suddenly my name was called, 

I felt a creeping cold, 
In gasping struggles 1 awoke. 

And so my dream is told. 



OtLr Untold Treasure. 



As minutes make the hours on earth, 
Our acts help make the pla\-, 
But then which one shall be our last, 
It rests with Him to sav. 



36 



Thoiieh for this thouo^ht we have no time 

If it dares to rise, 
The tempter pushes it away, 

Then tightly shuts our eyes. 



By thoughts of health, strength and others 

Who lived to an old age, 
And many scenes still yet to come. 

Ere we will quit life's stage. 



Lo, often by presumption bold 

Our only chance is lost 
To make our peace with God on earth. 

Before with Death we've crossed. 



37 



Like lightning to eternity, 

With nothing then to show, 

Except the little we had done 
To please Him here below. 

What anguish will this thought then bring, 

"My time I threw away, 
And now in torture can but think 

Forever and a day." 



38 



The Eleventh Hotcr, 

WILL you help me? I am hungry." 
The voice was low and sweet. 
A poor girl was the one who spoke, 
That night upon the street. 

The one to whom these words were said 

Was once as poor as she, 
And rich in purity of soul 

As any hope to be. 



39 



The scoundrel stood diere at her side 
When this appeal was made, 

And said : "Come on ; we will be late. 
Some one will give her aid." 



But still she looked on this orirl's face, 
' Twas of herself she thought, 

Of what she'd lost ne'er to regain. 
Of what by sin is bought. 



Sh(> gave her money with a look 
Of kindness and respect. 

The poor girl felt a moment's joy 
For she had known neo^lect. 



40 



Her father was a drunkard and 
Whate'er she got he took ; 

If 'twas not much, a blow she'd get, 
Always an angry look. 



One night she passed the hospital. 
And heard his voice so plain, 

She rushed in, but he knew her not 
From drink he was insane. 



And as she stood there sad at heart, 
Not knowing what to do. 

She heard a voice so kind, but weak, 
Say, "I remember you." 



41 



Then turning, on a bed she saw 
A face so thin and white, 

At first she thought it could not be 
The one so kind that night. 



She took the shrunken hand in hers, 
And heard in tones so sad : 

'T'm dying now; go tor a priest, 
Unless I am too bad." 



The girl just brought the priest in time 

To wipe away her past. 
With crrateful smile she murmured then, 

"We both are rich at last." 



42 



Some Day. 



THE youth who has passed through 
college, 
Pictures in his heart the day, 

He retires from business rich. 

Then his life will be all play. 



But when that time comes he will find 
So many have more than he, 

That at his labor still he keeps, 
'Til called to eternity. 



48 



The man who orambles on to win 
What he has lost in the past, 

Ofttimes in dire despair he will 
Rush to suicide at last. 



The man who loves, 'though has to wait 

Until she is twenty-one, 
Finds then she marries some one, but — 

It is not his father's son. 



Many here are only thinking 

Of some day when they will see, 

Their fondest hopes all realized, 

Life to them what it should be. 



44 



But a day is coming nearer, 

When in despair they will know, 
The One they have forgotten, who 

Gave them all and loves them so. 



At Otir Mercy. 



THE brightness of the clearing sky, 
Driving threat'ning clouds away, 
Brings to our heart the happy thought 
Of another sunny day. 



45 



But one we have in our keeping, 

Whose sky may be dark as night, 

Who murmurs only now and then : 

"Let me once more feel the li^ht 



"Of God's grace shining in my cell, 
Making my days sunny, too, 

As they can only ever be 

When to Him you're good and true. 



Still, in this world of fancied joys. 
Seldom do we hear this cry, 

And if we do who whispers then, 

"Not now, wait 'til bye and bye?" 



46 



There is but One knows when that means, 
Though some do not seem to care, 

'Til from their dream of future Hfe 
Awake in darkness and despair. 



Rain, Sti7^skme aiid- 



9 



WHAT is it keeps the earth alive ? 
Adding beauties day by day, 
Making all so bright and lovely, 
Many think they'd like to stay 



47 



In this world of sin forever, 

Enjoying all pleasures here, 

As real joys they are made to seem 
By one who is always near. 



What is it keeps the soul alive ? 

Bringing joy every day, 
Making its future life so bright. 

That it longs to get away. 



Tears of repentance for the past 

In the sunshine of God's grace, 

Living but on the thought of when 
'Twill in heaven take its place. 



48 



The Dream of Life. 

OUR dreams of joy or sorrow here, 
Although soon of the past, 
Sometimes consume the heart and soul 
We think they'll always last. 



How many are there dreaming now, 
Who ere long will awake 

To find this world the same cold place 
In which their hearts to break? 



49 



Asleep, 'though their eyes are open, 
They do not seem to see, 

Or for a moment stop to think, 
"Will this forever be?" 



There is one dream that ends in joy, 
Unspeakable, complete ; 

'Tis in the true Catholic's heart, 
Waiting prepared to meet 



The One whose love it holds more dear 
Than all the world can give, 

Now resting on that thought of peace, 
"With Him I'll ever live." 



50 



Here 07^ There ? 

Tf in the light of bygone days 
■*- No sorrow we could see, 
How sweet our recollections then, 
We think would always be. 



Without a disappointment or 
The loss of any friend, 

Perchance we never knew we loved 
So much until the end. 



51 



Without a lack of money to 

Have what we wished to buy ; 

Go when and where our fancy led, 
And never heave a sigh 



For false friends we did not find out 
Were stealing in some way, 

Worst of all from our soul, perhaps, 
What they could ne'er repay. 



Without pain of heart or body 

To think of in the past, 
Nor mem'ries of what might have been 

To haunt us to the last. 



52 



Would our past life resemble then 
That of the One who came, 

To save us for Eternal joy 

Or have ourselves to blame ? 



The Sunset of Life. 



THE sunlight of the dying- day, 
Resting on shadows here and there, 
As if in them to find repose, 

Whispers to our hearts this prayer : 



53 



"Oh! Lord, when my life is setting. 

May those shadows in which I rest 
Be but Thine own most loving arms, 

And I forever shall be blest. 



"For dien I will have naught to fear, 
As in the joy of Thy embrace 

My happiness is made complete, 
At last I see Thy lovely face, 



"And know I have not prayed in vain. 
That heaven would be mine at last. 

That now with Thee I'll ever be ; 

All doubts and fears are of the past. 



54 



The Final Choice. 

(Dedicated in gratitude to Miss M. E. McHale.) 

/^F which we'd like to do on earth, 
^ 'Tis never hard to tell, 
'Though many of the pleasures here 
Would lead us straioht to hell. 



So we must think before we choose, 
And make our final choice, 

'Twixt him who makes things look so fine 
And Christ's most loving voice. 



55 



Which ofttimes in our heart we hear 
But turn our ears away, 

To listen to the evil tongue, 
Of joys that last a day ; 



For torments such as we know not. 
Come on for one long night, 

And then that Voice we'll never hear 
Nor see that Brightest Light. 



56 



The Last Caller, 

ITTiTH all the dangers here on earth, 

* * How few we seem to see, 
Not knowing, 'though we're here to-day 
To-morrow where we'll be. 



For blinded by love of the w^orld, 
Our soul we often stake, 

To gain what will so soon be lost, 
What risks we sometimes take ! 



57 



Forgotten is that thief whose touch 
Will make us icy cold, 

Just when we think him far away 
Amono- the sick and old. 



To some he will send up his card, 
To let them know he's near, 

To those who've most forgotten him 
He'll just say, "Now, I'm here." 



Shall he be friend or enemy ? 

That we must now^ decide, 
Nor think we )et will have the time 

Before he's at our side. 



58 



The grace we've had since long ago, 
To ask Christ's loving Heart, 

That it might be a happy time, 
The moment ere we part 



From this our place of trial hard, 
Harder for those who win, 

A short stay in Purgatory, 

From there when free of sin, 



They're led by loving angels to 
A Home for them above, 

In untold joy, ne'er ending then, 
They live but on His love. 



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